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Paths Old And New


caldrail

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On my way to the library this afternoon I happened to pass along an old footpath in Okus. It dates from before the town of Swindon grew across this particular stretch of farmland in the 60's. In fact, I used to walk that way going to school. There was always that two tone blue sports car parked in someones drive that I used to fantasise over. Back then, I hadn't any idea what it was, but in the passing of years I've come to know it was a TVR Tasmin, and why it was always parked in the drive.

 

Incidentially if anyone thinks my love of sports cars comes direct from Jeremy Clarkson and the Top Gear team, think again. My childhood fantasies were often concerned with very fast cars, along with trains and planes. Come to think of it, one way or another, I've indulged myself in all my childhood fantasies over the years. Who needs a second childhood when you still have the old one?

 

And of course we return to that old footpath. How it has changed since those heady years when I used to walk our dog down to the horse meadow, where I could reflect on life and the universe, sat on a sarsen stone overlooking the valley, watching the sun go down, while the dog merrily went to the toilet on just about everything stationary. Somewhere under that ugly housing development that now fills the site with middle class monstrosities his old rubber ball is buried. A permanent memorial hidden away.

 

Now the old hospital at the top of the hill is gone too, it's flaking concrete condemning Princess Margarets Hospital to the pages of history whilst it's replacement out in the country on the other side of town fills the pages of newspapers in condemnation of its standards and parking prices.

 

Even worse for my nostalgic temperament is that the footpath is now diverted, connected, relegated to the second league of local byways by those asphalt curves that will now let all those teenage hoodies into peoples back doors in an area that was once so secluded. Worse still is the knowledge that the valley, Swindons Front Garden, is now becoming a building site for more expanses of expensive homes.

 

Oh poo, I'm getting miserable... Back in the old days if I felt this way I would fire up the old jalopy and blast down roads to my hearts content, returning a little windblown but deliriously happy. I know this is an insane idea... I know I'll regret it for the rest of my life... But... Anyone got a two-tone blue TVR they want to sell?

 

Language Skills Preferred

Just when you thought job searching in England couldn't get any harder comes the news that one supermarket chain is turning applicants away if they can't speak polish. Employers in Swindon ask for people who speak japanese. Or dutch. Or french. Or german. I seem to remember my teacher telling me that an O Level in English Language would stand me in good stead. Teachers... Pfah! What did they know?

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Hmmmm...maybe a Spanish professor looking for full-time employment should make her way to Swindon...Lord knows there's hardly any full-time employment in California.

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Spanish speakers? I thought Sir Francis Drake banned them from English soil? Oh well :D

 

Actually no, I doubt there's much market for teaching Spanish in Swindon. Most Swindoners that travel to Spain find that shouting very loudly usually makes them understood to the locals, and if you're drunk, who cares about communicating?

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Yeah, I know...when I went to Alicante in 2003, it was painfully obvious who the English were. In fact, there was a specific name for them (for the life of me I can't remember it), pointing to their very red/sunburnt skin and highly elevated voices. A Valencian comment, but a very funny one. (How odd...the few Americans who were there blended in!)

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